Dear Natasha
by MiyukiGainsborough
Summary: 'This will be my first letter to you. Hopefully, one day I will be able to reunite with you and give you all that I write to show you my work towards remembering who I am, where I am from, and, most importantly, you.'
1. Chapter 1

**MiyukiGainsborough: **Yes, I understand there is a Dear Natasha fic already out there and it's quite popular but I, for one, have not even read it so I don't want to recieve any reviews saying that I stole the idea or anything. PS: This does also take place after the movie. Enjoy.

* * *

_Dear Natasha,_

_I dreamt of you again last night. The scenes are still blurry but I can always see you and that firey red hair of yours. The dream was more mellow then the last one and also seemed quite short. All I remember was sitting opposite you on a couch, both of us staring intently at a television screen. I actually think what we were watching was in Russian and I was bored out of my skull. I could hear you munch softly on a bag of prepopped popcorn. I looked at you out of the corner of my eye and could see you looking at me, as if you knew how bored I was and wanted to ask if we should watch something else. I could only smile._

_- Clint_

_XXXX_

"I still don't understand why you have to go by yourself," Natasha grumbled as she walked alongside Clint. Her eyes were straight ahead, focused on the hallway they were walking down and the people they were passing, though she was still paying close attention to her conversation with the archer.

Clint gave an amused chuckle and replied, "Because you're on Stark babysitting duties again for the next month and all I'm going to do is bust up a little lab testing gamma radiation outside of Scotland. Same kind of job I used to take care of easily before we were a team." His hand moved from his side to her back, patting it softly to assure her he would be fine. This was the man who could not be looking and still hit his target.

Natasha still didn't like the idea of Clint going on a mission by himself. Ever since he had been brainwashed by Loki, she never liked for him to leave her sight, as if he would go dark side again. Before, she had been uncomfortable with it but would still allow it, much like when she was first keeping an eye on Tony Stark and he was out in New Mexico, keeping an eye over the mysterious crater.

Their walk was quiet the rest of the way to the flight deck, Natasha just enjoying the simple touch of Clint's hand on her back. Who knew how long it was going to be until she was going to get to feel that touch again. Never once did the thought cross her mind that she might never feel it again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Natasha,_

_I dreamt about us sitting in Red Sqaure. You were still my target then but the twenty-four hour deadline we had agreed on, or rather was forced on me, wasn't up yet. You told me about a faint memory you had from your childhood. You said you remember sitting there with a woman whom was either your mother or some woman who worked in the program that trained you. The air around you was so calm at the moment. I could tell you enjoyed remember something so peaceful._

_Right after that, you started to tell me about a man you assassinated in that square and how you had the same feeling of accomplishment you always got when you had completed a mission. The air was different when you spoke of this. You were feeling pain and guilt. Do you remember that conversation, Natasha? You asked me if you were a sick person for feeling like that after watching a man suffer. You told me that you were not a saint for the things you had done in your life and that you were a fiend that had done more bad than good and that was why you were going to let me kill you._

_Even in my dreams I can see why I spared your life._

_- Clint_

XXX

Director Fury leaned over the console and spoke into the stick thin microphone. "Hawk, how is your sight on the lab?" he asked the archer.

"Perfect like always," he whispered with a silent chuckle.

Hawkeye and his group were stationed all around the deep Scottish valley, keeping an eye on the small town. The Hawk was the furthest of the team, perched on the side of one of the grassy hills. His team, hidden around the town's edges, ready to strike at the call.

As the sun went down, guards armed with assault rifles changed shifts and lights snapped to life in the small houses and buildings. After all his studying of the town during the day and from the past couple of days, he knew by the changing of the guard and where the men heavily stood exactly which building housed the laboratory he was looking for.

"Alright, men," he spoke into his earpiece. "We pull this off as absolute as we planned it, everyone will be going home to their women and children once we're finished." Once they secured the place though, his team would get to leave but he would stay when Fury and his guard came in to protect the scientists that would look everything over. He could only continue to count the days until he was with Natasha again.

Hawkeye prepped an arrow and aimed for the first guard he saw. "Ready and-" He was cut off but a sudden rush of pain to the back of his head. His vision started to go blurry fast and as he collapsed into the grass, he could hear the echos of gunshots and shouting coming from the town. Ambush.


	3. Chapter 3

**MiyukiGainsborough: **I realized that my chapter two and three did not mash well and I'm wondering why I messed up so badly on that. Sorry, everyone! So, chapter two was deleted and chapter three was made the new chapter two. I suck at action scenes but I hope you like this! Sorry for the delay as well. My husband and I just moved from Florida to Kentucky and it was taking awhile to get used to the place [and I had to wait for internet ugh.]

XXX

_Dear Natasha,_

_I dreamt of the very first time we met. I came to your hotel room planning on killing you, not expecting you to answer half-dressed or pull me inside to zip up the pool blue evening gown you were wearing. For some reason you made me forget all about killing you and I let you force me into a deal. 'Twenty-four hours and then I could kill you.' I think since I first laid eyes on you I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever met._

_- Clint_

XXX

A deep groan came from the hero's throat as the blackness around him started to become blurry pictures. He didn't know what to expect when his blurred surrounding becames clear stone walls of a simple 5x8 room. His head shifted around quickly, trying to figure out where he was. Nothing in the room. He was alone...and tied to a chair.

Clint tried not to panic and he tugged at the ropes that bound his wrists to the arms of the chair, hoping there was some way to break free but the bindings were secured. Why was he tied up? Who was keeping him there?

His movements ceased when a shadow passed by the door at the end of the room followed by the sound of the doorknob clicking. An older male entered the room, his scraggy blonde hair matching his sharp facial features. He bothered not to shut the door, obviously not going to say long, and gave a crooked smile as he approached Clint, a lit cigarette held between his thin lips. "About time you woke up," he chuckled in a deep, Scottish accent. "Was beginning to think my men killed you." He began to circle the brown haired man, not once taking his piercing green eyes away from him. "Here to try and stop my gamma testings are you?"

The archer said nothing as he stared at the man, wondering who he was and putting together that he was obviously the reason behind the throbbing pain in the back of his head. Different plans of escape went through his head as he looked back and forth from the door to the man who stepped quickly around him. Should he work the ropes that seemed to dig into his wrists more with each of his struggles or try to break the chair?

"Not very talkative, eh? I was going to keep you alive for some kind of ransom bargianing with whatever group you are from but I don't even care." A gun was pulled from the black leather holdster at his side and placed to the side of Clint's head. "No use to me when I already have what I want."

The moment Clint heard the click of the pistol's hammer, his head ducked down, the bullet going right over his head a mere second after he had done so. Quickly, he used his weight and bound feet to bring the chair up and back down to smash the wooden bar his ankles were tied to. His weight was used once more to rock the chair side to side, using his head during one of the rocking movements to knock the gun from the man's hand before pushing up with his feet and throwing himself into his captor.

Clint could hear it the second they both hit the floor, that gasp of air being knocked from the blonde's lungs. He took this small moment to throw himself back up, this time on his feet, hunched over just slightly from the chair, and push himself into the wall behind him, with hopes of breaking the chair attached to him. His actions provided no success and the agent was forced to turn his attention back to the Scottish man who was finally recovering and getting up.

Both men's eyes looked at the gun laying a few feet from them and while his enemy dove for the gun, Clint took his chance and rushed to the open door. A bullet flew right passed his head, yet another lucky dodge, as he moved into the hallway. A guard at the end of the short hallway turned and saw the captive rushing his way. The man barely had the chance to raise his gun before Clint turned his back to him and rammed both of them into the wall with all his strength, this time breaking the chair.

Gunshots rung through the hallway as Clint saw the blonde man finally coming from the room. He rolled off the now unconcious man and started to take off through the partial maze of a building. Any guard that came his way was met with some kind of body part hitting them in the gut or upside the head, the chair arms still attached to his wrists coming in handy.

With gunshots ringing around and flying passed him, Clint knew he had only one option and that was to get out as quickly as possible. No time to find his equipement and to see if any of his men were still alive. _'Make it home to Nat. Make it home to Nat,'_ was all he could think at that moment.

Two guards stood in front of the door to freedom, the view from a small window telling him it was the exact building he had been looking over before being captured. Two mere guards were nothing for him to take down once he was able to get ahold of the first one's gun. Of course, with the sounds of multiple footsteps rushing down the hallways, Clint was sweating bullets.

The outside of the building was no better. Armed men were around each corner and Clint could only do one thing; run for the river. He couldn't scale up the hills without being taken down easily. He could swim underwater until he was a good distance from the village and it was bound to take him to another safer one. Before any of the armed men could even get a look at the hawk, he took off for the river, keeping his running in a sort of zigzag pattern once the bullets started to fly towards him.

From behind him, almost muffled among the gunshots, he could hear the Scottish leader shouting, "TAKE HIM DOWN! KILL HIM!"

_Sting._ A great and familiar pain shot in his left upper thigh. _Sting._Another in his right shoulder.

'_Almost there,'_ he started to repeat himself. The river grew closer and closer until his ankles were in the cold water. Just as the brunette was about to dive under, another sting shot through his body, making everything go numb and his vision go black before he hit the water.


	4. Chapter 4

_You can break her down_

_With your highs and lows_

_But she's familiar with the sound_

_The sound you make, every time you go_

- 'Always' by Peter Bradley Adams

XXX

Natasha gave a deep sigh of relief as she exited the weight room, running a small, towel over her sweating forehead. It had barely been two days since Clint had left for his mission so Natasha had to find different ways to keep herself both entertained and from worrying until she was put onto another mission. Training and exercise kept her busy enough.

_'Agent Romanoff,'_ called Fury through Natasha's earpiece. _'I need you to come to the bridge immedietely.'_

Normally, she probably would have rolled her eyes and made some kind of joke to Clint about how they never get time to relax [even after a week off.] However, with Clint out on a dangerous mission, she would waste no time going to bridge to make sure nothing had happened to him. She entered the large room, standing straight at attention though still dressed in sweats. "Sir?" she called to Fury who was talking to Agent Hill.

Fury and Hill looked to Natasha and the red headed assassin could see Maria take in a deep breath before letting it out. Fury brought up one hand and gestured for her to come over to him which she did in a quickened pace. "Agent Romanoff..," he started slowly, "..we have a problem." On a moniter behind the Director was the file of Clint's current mission along with the profiles of all the agents sent on it, Clint's in front of all. All the faith she had in him just wanting to give her another mission went completely out the window. She wouldn't say anything to him though, just let him continue and give her the bad news that she knew was coming. "Barton and his team have gone missing."

Natasha took in a deep breath and replied, "Just missing, sir?" She hoped that was the case. Clint didn't have her permission to go off and die during a mission.

"Last time I spoke with him, it seems like they were attacked." Fury turned to the moniter behind him and pressed a button on the screen. Clint's voice rang from the speakers loud clear.

_'Alright, mean, we pull this off as absulute as we planned it, everyone will be going home to their women and children once we're finished. Ready and-'_

_Thump! Thud!_

The sounds that followed were gunshots and shouts in the distance.

Natasha spoke as the audio file stopped playing. "An ambush...But...Barton wasn't shot," she added, noting the heavy thump that had come from almost right by his ear piece. He had been hit with something hard and knocked out while his team was slaughtered. "So, he has been captured while the rest of the men were killed."

Fury shook his head and turned his body back towards the agent. "I'm not going to rule out the others as dead just yet. I'm putting together an even bigger team and we're going to infiltrate the town. I want you to lead it, Romanoff."


	5. Chapter 5

_You've been away too long_

_But she will choose to believe_

_And her heart is so strong_

_It's strong enough, if only it could see_

- 'Always' by: Peter Bradley Adams

XXX

Clint could barely open his eyes as he awoke but when he finally did, the whole room was spinning, blending colors and shapes as if it wasn't a room he was in at all. He stayed laying on whatever soft fabric was underneath him until the room started to come together. It was a decent sized room with a simple oak nightstand beside the bed and matching dresser against the right side wall. Slowly turning his head to the left side, he could see there was no door but an opening between two room dividers that were made to act like a wall. From the lack of windows, he knew he was in some kind of refurbished basement. At that moment though, he didn't care what the room was, he just wanted to know where he was.

He shifted his feet over the side of the bed and pulled himself to sit up. Immediately the dizziness and a headache hit him, making him clutch his gut as if he was going to be sick. "Son of a bitch," he grumbled before taking in a deep breath. His eyes looked to the sling his left arm was wrapped in then moved his right hand over his right thigh, feeling the bandage that was hiding under the navy blue pajama pants he was wearing. With the headache still lurking, he moved his hand to his head and felt the bandage that was wrapped around it. "Wha-?"

"Oh good, you're awake," called a soft female voice. At the makeshift 'door' was a petite, young woman, a smile upon her beautiful face and a tray of food in her hands. She moved over to the bedside where Clint sat and placed the tray on the nightstand. Her hair was a dark shade of brown with what seemed like highlights of red within it, her eyes a grass green, and her skin a fair shade of pink with light freckles powdered over he nose and cheeks. He pinned her at about seventeen or eighteen and obviously not the owner of the home.

She reached into the nightstand and pulled out a thermometer. "You gave the town quiet a scare when they found you floating in the river. With all the blood, we thought you were a goner for sure." Though such a dark subject, her voice still held bounce in it.

She moved to Clint and went to stick the thermometer in his mouth but he lightly brushed her hand away. "I promise you that I do not have a fever," he told her. "Who are you and...and where am I?"

Her smile still stayed as she returned the thermometer to the drawer. "My name is Fiona Logan and you're in the home of my parents, Andrew and Tara. Who might you be?" she asked.

This question stopped Clint and made him stare off at nothing as he thought about it. "Clint!" he quickly shouted. He cleared his throat and repeated calmly, "M-my name is Clint."

"Where are you from, Clint? With those bullet wounds, we all believe you to be in the mafia," she laughed.

Clint looked down and shook his head. "I...I don't know..." The only thing in his memory was the name Clint. Everything else was gone.

XXX

"Where is the agent you captured? Where is the archer?" Natasha shouted as drove her knee into the blonde man's back and pulled his arm the opposite way causing him to groan in pain. "Tell me!"

Though with all the pain from the Black Widow, he still laughed. "Dead. The archer thought he could escape. I put a bullet right through his head."

"Don't lie to me!" Of course she wouldn't believe what the man said. Clint wasn't a man who would die so easily. "I'll put a bullet through your head if you don't tell me!"

Fury stood off to the side with Agent Hill, the rest of his men filing the captured scientists and soldiers into the room at gun point. This definitely wasn't the Natasha he knew. Losing Clint made her angry and more violent. At that point, he definitely believed she would kill the man she held on the floor if he didn't answer the way she wanted him to.

"I told you, little girl! The archer is dead!" He looked to her out of the corner of his eye as his face was pressed into the cold concrete. "He may have good aim but so do I."

Natasha was now shaking with anger. She stood, keeping his arm in her hand then swiftly brought her heel down on his elbow, snapping the bone and causing the man to actually shout this time. She nodded her head to a couple of agents who stood by and moved over to Fury. "I still don't believe him," she said to the Director.


	6. Chapter 6

_'Always...Always she waits for you...'_

- 'Always' by: Peter Bradley Adam

XXX

Fiona helped the limping Clint upstairs to the main section of the house where a middle-aged couple were busy doing the dishes. The lovely brunette woman, Tara, looked to the two coming up the stairs and grinned happily. "Oh, our survivor is awake and moving around!" she cheered over to her husband.

Andrew, a brown-eyed, blonde man, smiled as well and replied, "It's good to see you made it through the night, stranger. With all the blood you lost, we all believed you wouldn't last the night." He dried his hands on a dish towel and moved over to Clint as the archer was helped into a seat at the dining table.

"If it wasn't for your town's kindness, I would be dead," Clint responded, holding out his hand to the older gentleman. "Thank you, sir."

The father nodded and took Clint's hand, giving it a firm shake. "It's Andrew Logan, the mayor of this fine town, and this is my wife, Tara. You've already met Fiona, my daughter. What would your name be, friend?" he asked, taking back his hand and leaning against the table.

"It's Clint...," he started but trailed off for a moment. "J-Just Clint."

Fiona stood at Clint's side and gently put her hand on his shoulder. "He can't remember anything besides his name, Daddy," she told Andrew.

Tara moved over to the small group and looked to Clint. "Amnesia? Oh dear. Clint, you are more than welcome to stay with us until you regain your memory."

Placing his hand on Tara's back, Andrew gave a nod, agreeing with his wife. "Stay as long as you need to, Clint. We'll take good care of you."

The archer smiled looked to the people around him. "Thank you so much."

XXX

Clint had been sitting outside for quite sometime, relaxed on a white wooden bench in front of the Andrew's home, but he enjoyed it. He took in a deep breath of air and closed his eyes, cherishing the pure air. It smelled of the soft flowers from Tara's garden, fresh water from the river, and fresh bread baking from a house down the hill. He had been told that the village they were residing in was called Inistioge. It had a population of little over two hundred and fifty and seem a bit popular with the tourists. It was peaceful.

"You've been sitting around here for a good hour or so. It's really is nice, huh?" came Fiona's voice. His eyes opened and he saw the young woman standing in front of him, a smile on her pretty face. She tilted her head to the side, her long hair falling off her shoulders, some strands over her face. "How are you feeling, Mr. Clint?"

He grinned back at the girl and replied, "Better. The pain comes and goes but sitting out here keeps my mind off of it."

Fiona took a seat next to him and looked out at the village. With their house being at the top of a hill, she could see everyone's houses, where kids were playing, and who was tending to the livestock. "Do you think you'll find something here that will help you get your memory back?"

After thinking about it for a moment, he shook his head. "I already know I'm not from here. so I doubt anything might help. I just wish I had a clue." He looked to the teen as a breeze began to blow through, sweeping up her hair. The brown seemed to change to red in the sunlight as it waved in the wind causing Clint to stop. The red...The red was so familiar...Someone else had red hair...Someone he really cared about...


	7. Chapter 7

"Papaaaa!" called Fiona from the front door.

Andrew and Tara both rushed to the front to see their daughter helping their guest into the house. Clint was cringing in pain and clutching his head. The father moved to the other side of him and the two moved the wounded man onto the couch. "Clint? Clint, are you alright? What's wrong?" he asked, trying to look into his eyes.

"H-Headache," the brunette groaned before looking up. "A woman...I saw a woman I know..."

"You did?" gasped Tara from behind her husband. "Where did you see her?"

"Red hair...She had red hair..." The pain in his head was making it difficult to speak but he tried his best to explain. "A memory...Her hair was the color of blood..."

XXX

Natasha gave a sigh as she leaned against the table in the debriefing room of the helicarrier, her thumb and index finger rubbing her temples. From behind her, Coulson's voice spoke out, "Natasha, get some rest. You've been up for almost twenty-four hours." He placed his hand on her shoulder and tried to comfort her. "We both know he's alive. Just rest for a few hours and you can join the search again."

She was about to argue but the older man was right. She had overworked herself and was exhausted though she felt pretty good about having knocked around the man who supposedly killed the Hawk. "I'll be back out in a couple of hours," replied the woman as she stood from the table and left the main room. Part of her had doubts she would be able to sleep with so much worry on her mind but the moment she laid in her bed, she was out. She dreamed of a mission Clint and she had been on in Jamaica. Little did she know, a sleeping Clint was having the same dream miles away.

XXX

_"Clint," came Natasha stern voice from across the wooden table, "you shouldn't be drinking. We're technically on the clock." She watched the male smirk and take a decent sized drink of his pina colada._

_"Oww." He cringed and held his head for a moment. "Brain freeze." He laughed and held the drink out to her. "We're always on the clock, Natasha. What's a couple of drinks going to hurt? This is like a mini-vacation anyway."_

_The red-headed woman sighed and chuckled lightly. "Okay, but don't get drunk. We still have to do some work today." She reached across the table and took the frozen drink from him. She sipped it like anyone else would and said, "Now this is mine."_

_"Oh, come on! You could order your own!" he argued, always loving when Natasha teased him._

XXX

Clint's eyes snapped open and he sat up from his spot on the couch. Fiona, who was sitting on a recliner next to the couch, called to her mother who was in the kitchen, baking. "Natasha...," he said softly, reaching up and touching the bandage that was still around his head.

"Natasha?" questioned Fiona as she looked back to her mother who had moved into the living room, her hands covered in flour.

"I dreamt of a woman named Natasha. She is the woman with the red hair. We worked together. We seemed close," he answered. He didn't explain the drink as he was still trying to piece what he had together though he knew he couldn't get answered until he remembered more.

Tara spoke this time, "And all you know is her name and what she looks like? Is she Scottish?"

Clint shook his head, still not looking at either woman. "I believe she was Russian though she seemed to have lost the accent long ago. She sounded American...Damn!" he cursed, slamming his fist against the couch. "I wish I knew more! Who is she?" Part of him was glad to at least know more than before but he was still aggravated with this amnesia.

Natasha...He could feel she was more than a co-worker. When he thought about her and pictured her, his heart skipped a beat. She was important to him. How was he going to unlock more memories? "Mrs. Logan, can I have some paper and a pen?" he asked, finally looking up at her.

"Um..sure, Clint," she responded. She moved to another room and came back only seconds later with a notepad and a pen. She handed the items to him. "What are you going to do?"

Both women watched him write the words 'Dear Natasha' on the paper before he answered. "I'm going to document my dreams and memories as they come to me so I can piece things together easily. I'll write them in a letter form to this Natasha. Maybe it will help me remember more things."

Fiona smiled and looked to her mother once more. "That's a great idea. It's sure to help."

So, the two women left Clint alone so he write though the words came quickly and smoothly.

_Dear Natasha,_

_This will be my first letter to you. Hopefully, one day I will be able to reunite with you and give you all that I write to show you my work towards remembering who I am, where I am from, and, most importantly, you._

_This first dream was somewhere warm, very warm. We were sitting at a table in a beach side restaurant. I had ordered a pina colada and you were quick to tell me that I shouldn't be drinking while we were on the clock. I seemed to convince you with a smile and brain freeze that we could have a little fun on our mini-vacation before any work._

_I love your smile._

_- Clint_


	8. Chapter 8

_Dear Natasha..._

"Come on, Mister Clint!" called Fiona from only a couple of feet in front of him. "I want to show you the village!"

_I really didn't think I would be writing so soon after my first letter._

Clint slowly limped along the small stone steps leading down the hill and into the village. He gave a laugh and shouted back, "I'm going as fast as I can over here. Shot in the leg, remember?"

_I dreamt of you again last night._

"You were quick enough getting seconds at dinner last night!" she teased, her hands on her hips.

Shaking his head, he finally caught up with the brunette female and lightly tapped her on the head. "That's because seconds were on the table not all the way in the village."

_The scenes are still blurry but I can always see you and that fiery red hair of yours._

The two moved into the village where Clint was almost bombarded with people asking of his health and if there was anything they could do to help as well. The man just smiled and declined. "You all did enough by saving my life. Really, I thank all of you."

_The dream was more mellow than the last one and seemed quite short. _

"How long with you be staying with us, Mister Clint?" asked a relatively plump older woman.

The archer shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Not sure right now but I promise I won't just up and leave without saying good-bye."

_All I remember was sitting opposite you on a couch, both of us staring intently at a television screen._

Clint waved to the group of people who had once been surrounding him as he and Fiona walked down to the docks. "You're so nice, Mister Clint. I have such a hard time being around anyone really," she admitted.

"And why's that? Everyone is so friendly and you seem like the girl who gets along with everyone." Keeping his aching body straight, he looked into the sapphire colored waters. Fish would be swimming along quickly, a small school of them even looking like they were playing.

_I actually think what we were watching was in Russian and I was bored out of my skull._

Fiona's shoulders moved up then down and she leaned over the dock, looking into the water as well. "I'm just uncomfortable around people. I prefer to spend my days around the house reading. Mum and Dad urge me to go into the village and spend time around everyone but I just keep to my reading." She looked to Clint and smiled. "You're actually the first person I've really felt comfortable around."

Laughing softly and turned to the younger female. "Well, thank you for finding comfort in a stranger with no memories."

_I could hear you munch softly on a bag of prepopped popcorn._

Clint and Fiona had moved to a tree sitting perfectly on the bank of the river. It's branches gave the best shade from the warm day and the roots had grown in a perfect circular shape that allowed the two to sit in between. Fiona had brought along one of her most favorite books and started to read along to Clint who listen in silence. He never really liked being read to as Clint was more of an active person but he said nothing to her as she read.

_I looked at you out of the corner of my eye and could see you looking at me, as if you knew how bored I was and wanted to ask if we should watch something else._

Fiona stopped for a moment to clear her throat and glanced over to Clint, seeing the bored look on his face. When he noticed she wasn't continuing, he looked to her out of the corner of his eye and that's when their eyes met. Flashes of the dream he had the night before came to mind and he simply smiled. The girl's eyes widened a bit and she immediately turned back to the book and continued to read.

_I could only smile._

The two entered the house to see Tara hard at work cooking dinner. "Let me help you, mum," said the girl happily. She placed her book on the dining table and moved into the kitchen to help her mother who seemed very glad to have the extra hands.

"Fiona," Clint called, making the girl stop and look to him. "Read to me again sometime." He watched her grin and nod before going back to work. He too felt the edges of his mouth curl up once more before he moved into the living room to start writing his next letter.

_- Clint_


	9. Chapter 9

**MiyukiGainsborough:** I just wanted to leave a quick note saying that the village Clint is in has been changed. I don't know how I managed to make this mistake but I discovered that Ettrick isn't an Irish village but a Scottish one. Oops! The mistake has also been fixed in chapter six. I'm also slowly educating myself on Ireland as I write this fic. If I get anything wrong, please let me know so I can correct it!

XX

_Dear Natasha,_

_I could tell this most recent memory was from the first time we met just by the conversation we had but what was most important to me wasn't that. It was the innocent expression on her face the moment I uncovered a sweet cake from my room service tray. Though I had ordered it for myself, it was that face that made me lie to you and say I believed you would be hungry when you go back. That face made me give you the cake. I can see now it was little things like that which really made me fall in love with you long before I ever realized it._

_- Clint_

XX

It had already been month since Clint came to the Logan's. One month since the memories started to return and they were still coming in dreams or quick flashes. There were still not many and none helped him figure out exactly who he was. All were just about Natasha and all the times he spent with her. He wouldn't complain though. The memories comforted him and reminded him that there was someone who was missing him, someone he would find when he had the answers he needed.

Fiona really grew close to the older man in that time and he to her. Her crush was obvious but he still treated her like a little sister. It didn't bother her at all as she knew all about the woman from his fuzzy memories. She just enjoyed his time in her family, reminding herself that one day he was going to leave, her hope in that he wouldn't forget them or their little village.

His days were spent working around the village or just around the Logan home in any way he could. On down time, he would spend time with the Logan's telling stories or jokes over coffee, listening to Fiona read a new chapter in whatever book they were on, or writing a new letter to Natasha. Countless times he would have to remind himself that he would be leaving the village when his memory was restored, however, with that another reminder was added on that he wasn't allowed to forget the place that had taken him in and saved his life. The people of Inistioge were his new family, a great addition to the family he had where he truly came from.

Night had already hit but the village was still as active as ever. It was the birthday of Andrew so a large party was being thrown for him. "Clint!" he heard Fiona call from the front door. "You're going to miss out on the fun if you don't hurry!" He heard her giggle and shut the door.

Clint softly laughed to himself as he sealed the envelope in his hands. He picked his pen back up and dated the front of it like his did with all of his letters to Natasha. He brought the letter to his lips and gave it a light kiss before placing it inside of a cream-colored gift box. The smile he gave was small as he looked at the stack of letters inside of the box then he returned to matching lid to the top.

He stood from the couch and made he was outside, meeting up with Fiona who was standing right outside the front door waiting for him. "Come on!" She took his hand and started to lightly pull him down the hill to a clearing beside the village where a large bon fire was dancing away. There were tables set around it, all covered with every kind of Irish dish Clint had ever heard of, and everyone in the town were already there, dancing and singing happily.

The moment they reached the party, Fiona tugged him onto the 'dance floor' and made him dancing with her. He stumbled a bit, his old wound hurting just a bit, but he managed to keep up with the lively teenager. "Oh, Clint, I didn't spend two weeks teaching you these dance steps for you to mess them up," she teased.

"Yes but in my defense, I was still wounded for at least a week and a half of that," he responded, his eyes looking down at his feet every so often to make sure he was still getting the steps right. "I'm also American. I can't just perfect a dance in two weeks." He spun the girl out, left a kiss to the back of her hand, then spun her back in to continue the dance.

X

Natasha sighed and leaned against the large black table, an apple in her hand, as her eyes stared at the different screens around the main room of the hellicarrier. She had run around all morning doing work and in the middle of that, trying to get more information on Clint. People were starting to doubt that the archer was alive after a month of being missing but she just wouldn't give up.

"Agent Romanoff," Fury greeted her as he entered the room. "Busy afternoon?"

She finished chewing the bit of apple in her mouth then replied, "Decently. Anymore work you need from me or maybe you have information on Clint?" Her eyes were cold, similar to how they were before she had joined SHIELD.

Fury took a moment, staring back at her, then shook his head. "Nothing at the moment...on both accounts." He placed a folder on the table and began to flip through it. "Others are losing hope but I promise you, I'm not."

"Director Fury!" called a voice from the front of the room. Agent Hill practically ran across the room to Fury and handed him a tablet. Natasha could see the Director's eye go wide at what he was reading. "Kane Wallace has escaped from prison," Hill told him calmly.

"Kane Wallace...," he repeated, looking to the woman at his side. "Isn't that-?"

"The Irishman that supposedly killed Agent Barton," she quickly finished.

Natasha's widened as well as she was quickly out of her seat, dropping her apple on the table. The Widow was out of the room before the apple could roll off the edge of the table and hit the floor. It was now her number one priority to find the man.

X

The dancing, drinking and feasting had gone on for hours. The fire had begun to die down and the residents that had not left yet, gathered around the dim fire, beer in hand, to enjoy the last bit of the party before it was time for bed.

Andrew, Tara, Fiona, and Clint sat on a blanket together, the two men being the only ones with a beer in their hands. Fiona leaned her head onto Clint's shoulder and stared at the clear, starry sky. Clint looked to the man at his side and held up his beer bottle. "Happy birthday, cara," spoke Clint, using the Irish Gaelic word for friend. The older man responded with a smile and tapped the top of his bottle with Clint's.

Starting with one person, a traditional song began to be sung by the remaining villagers, signalling the end of their gathering.

_Of all the money that e'er I had_

_I spent it in good company_

_And all the harm I've ever done _

_Alas it was to none but me _

_And all I've done for want of wit _

_To mem'ry now I can't recall _

_So fill to me the parting glass_

_Good night and joy be to you all_

_So fill to me the parting glass _

_And drink a health whate'er befalls _

_And gently rise and softly call _

_Good night and joy be to you all _

_Of all the comrades that e'er I had_

_They're sorry for my going away_

_And all the sweethearts that e'er I had_

_They'd wish me one more day to stay _

_But since it fell unto my lot_

_That I should rise and you should not _

_I gently rise and softly call_

_Good night and joy be to you all_

_Fill to me the parting glass _

_And drink a health whate'er befalls _

_And gently rise and softly call _

_Good night and joy be to you all _

_La La_

_But since it fell unto my lot_

_That I should rise and you should not_

_I gently rise and softly call_

_Good night and joy be to you all_

_So fill to me the parting glass _

_And drink a health whate'er befalls _

_And gently rise and softly call _

_Good night and joy be to you all _

_Good night and joy be to you all._


End file.
